


mourn the living

by sparkly_seagull



Series: Jangobi Week (2021) [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Competence Kink, Jango is lookin for a dilf apparently, M/M, Mandalorian Competence Kink, Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, No Smut, Satine Kryze went crazy and is now a final boss type villian, he's only 2/3 sure of what he's doing at all times, mentions of The Children of the Watch, the kink is not explored in kinky detail on my good time sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_seagull/pseuds/sparkly_seagull
Summary: Day 5: Competence KinkBen was ... off, he spoke with a slight accent Jango couldn't decipher and his words seemed unintentionally formal, following some grammar formula that had long since adapted. But he'd brought them supplies and he'd protected his child, refusing to disregarded tradition in favor of safety with the looming threat of Kryze and her attempt to destroy their culture. Jango would watch Ben closely, convincing himself that it was to satisfy his curiosities and worries, and not the powerful pull he felt toward the man who made his very step count.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Korkie Kryze, Ursa Wren & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Jangobi Week (2021) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137158
Comments: 24
Kudos: 328





	mourn the living

**Author's Note:**

> heh, prompts go brrrr
> 
> also all the speaking is happening in Mando'a, I just made some words that need to be in actual Mando'a a hover text translate, but for context, no one is speaking basic

A stranger stood at the edge of the transport, their back to the opening leading back into the discreet ship Jango had sent out earlier for reconnaissance about the drop point that had been mysteriously activated less than two day cycles prior. Three bags were strung across their defensive frame, at least that was Jango’s guess, a heavy cloak made of thick wool was draped over making it hard to see. They were hiding something, but Jango had a nagging feeling it wasn’t weapons. He could see two packs hanging onto their back in a haphazard way, straps tangled with a third bag. That must’ve been what was covered.

Jango eyed the newcomer dressed in armor stripped of paint, the silver shine of the  gleaming underneath a thin layer of dirt that had to have been recent. The only areas that seemed to have been spared from their trip into some mud was the chest plate peeking out from under the dark cloak and their arms, partially covered also in part by the woolen material, but looked like they’d been meticulously wiped down.

“Who are you?” Demanded Rook Kast, Jango knew her loyalty lay with his second in command, Pre Vizsla, but as much wariness as he held toward her, she seemed to be onto something. 

Pre was barely restrained, wanting to expose what troops they still had to the tyrant Kyrze. He blamed her for the death of his father, rightfully so, but his need for vengeance conflicted with the fact they were low on supplies and people. Kryze’s systemic attacks had been surprising when they began, devastating the population of Jango’s people, whom Kryze and her cronies now dubbed 'Death Watch’.

The ‘Duchess’ and her genocide had left Jango and the  in shambles, forcing them to retreat underground and wage a war of suicide missions and untraceable killings. Still, Kryze did not stop, did not relent on her ethnic cleansing and destruction of the millennium of culture the people of Mandalore had held sacred. Jango knew that Pre would have split off, to form his own faction, his own clan, if not for the threat that faced them all. For now, Jango was still their  , their leader in this fight for their survival as a people.

Kast leveled her second blaster at the newcomer, repeating her question slower and with more menace. “Who are you?”

The newcomer did not make a move, standing with a stillness that betrayed as little emotion as their modulated voice did when they finally spoke. “Seeking refuge.”

Their words sounded stilted, unpracticed with an accented edge Jango could not identify. The others in the abandoned mine shaft repurposed into a mostly stable ship hanger watched on. The tunnels were old and had not been used for their original intended purpose in generations, many believed the planet had become too stripped of ore to have the mines be of any use. But they were of use, a dozen ships were hidden in the tunnels, lined up one after the other, only three ships being able to fit at the mouth of the mine and the cave that had been carved out.

Jango stood with Pre, apart from the crowd of engineers and other pilots who were gathering closer and closer to Kast and her victim. The ship that had returned with the newcomer was the one Jango had sent out to investigate the drop point, and with its return they could finally finish preparations for their trip off planet and away from Kryze’s center of power. Pre nudged him, his own blaster hanging from his hand, taken out of it’s holster. Jango made no move to draw his weapons, a quiet voice in his head warned against bringing harm. There was more to be known.

“Truly?” Kast spat out.

“I am equally as hunted as the rest of you.” Same the newcomer’s reply, much steadier than the first broken phrase they’d spoken.

Kast stepped closer to the unloading ramp, placing one foot on the extended durasteel. “Show your face,”

“No.”

She sneered suddenly, cocking her blaster. “A follower of the ‘Way’ then? We have no love for the pretender clan.”

Jango rolled his eyes, his reaction buffered from the rest of them by the helmet lodged onto his head. The Children of the Watch were of no harm, no matter how many of Pre’s recruits seemed to think that. Their code was a strict one, nothing like the Supercommando codex instated by his father, but they were still  . He knew they deferred to their Armorer, he had met with a few Armorers since ascending to his father’s old rank of the rightful  . They held allegiance to him and his cause, only diluted by the strength of the word of the Armorer. None of the Children of the Watch showed their faces, and many who had broken this creed found themselves at Jango’s doorstep, looking for a community as similar to the one they had left.

“I know of no pretender clans, you speak of something that holds no meaning to me. I follow no ‘way’.” They corrected, it seemed unlikely they hadn’t even heard an allusion to religious devotees. “My clan is only of two now.” Their grammar was … off. They sounded formal, but in a way that did not stem from an attempt at politeness.

“Please Kast,” Sighed another figure, one who appeared behind the newcomer. Their posture fell from it’s emotionless rigidity into one of slight relief. The newest arrival stepped past and pulled off their helmet, revealing themselves to Ursa Wren. She was one of the newer recruits, having been raised on a farm far away from where the genocide and subsequent fighting had first begun. She was native to Concordia, where the  stronghold lay. “My friend here does not need your accusations.”

“Ursa,” Her defendant made a move to whisper, though it was loud enough for Jango’s internal HUD speakers to pick up. “Let me take any blame.”

Wren shook her head ruefully and addressed Kast. “Put your blasters down. Ben is under my protection and I will not allow him to come to any harm.”

“Ben?” Kast asked. “Under your protection? You are a clan of one, what help do you hope to find?”

Jango sighed. Kast really had to stop using the size of one’s clan as a status symbol. She and her three siblings had been inducted into the folds of Clan Vizsla, but she, as well as most of them there, had started with only a few under a uniting name. Clan Mereel was all encompassing of the  now, with Jango’s most trusted under the title of Clan Fett.

“You will bring him no harm.” Wren emphasized, her jaw tight. “He came here like the rest of us, seeking safety and revenge against Kryze.”

“You were supposed to scout the drop location!” Kast exclaimed. “That was all! Find out why it was reactivated and why supplies were rained down. Talk to the source that contacted us promising information on the supplier. Not bring back a stowaway!”

Jango had extended their stay on  for another few day cycles, pushing back their scheduled trip to rejoin the rest of the  in favor of investigating the drop point had suddenly had much needed supplies dropped on it. It was a surprise and a welcome one, but Jango had fears that it was inherently underhanded, seeing as they were situated on the planet Kryze had managed to finally get almost complete control over. He’d much rather had the situation take place on the nearby moon on Concordia, where the wilderness was still untamed by the new extremist government and he had open access to the  mines. It was no matter now, they had the first load and when Wren confirmed the bringing of the second load, they could make their way back to relative safety.

Ursa stalked down the ramp, her face dangerously controlled. “I did do what I was told.” She seemed utterly disgusted that Kast had insinuated such a thing. “And you know what I found? More ammo at the drop point, now safely stowed away in my cargo hold. And what other mysteries did I stumble upon?”

She took another step forward. “A crash site with two fighter ships surrounding it, the two pilots are fresh corpses, attracting scavengers already with blaster shots through the backs of their heads. And when I went to the informant? Ben, covered in the blood of the mole he had just killed before my location could be given away.”

Jango refocused his gaze on Ben, the man had not made a move, his arm coming protectively moving from his side to cradle something beneath his cloak. 

“I mean to be no burden,” He announced. “I only wish to find a place for my son and I to stay. And if I may aid your cause past just the supplies I brought in two day cycles ago, I will.”

Ben’s mildly accented voice brought pause to them all, the room falling into collective silence. Jango’s mind rushed to understand the implications of all the new information Ben had just volunteered. 

“What?” Kast seemed completely flabbergasted. “That was you?”

“It was a favor to an old friend.” Came Ben’s vague reply.

“You have a child?” Demanded Ursa. Children were sacred to the  . To be a parent was one of the greatest responsibilities and accomplishments one could undertake. Blood relation meant little to them, the bonds forged by time and commitment being the truest indicators of family ties. 

Jango swore he heard one of the engineers mumble, “How did you not notice?”

Ben pulled back the fabric of his cloak to reveal an odd looking baby sling Jango almost mistook for a satchel, revealing the reddish blond head of a sleeping human baby. “He’s just quiet because he’s tired.” Ben seemed to be trying to assure Wren. “You had other needs to attend to, Ursa.”

Wren had turned her back on Kast, excitedly making her way to Ben and waiting for a nod of permission before peeking into the baby sling to coo softly. “Is that what you meant when you said your clan had shrunk? Did he have a mother?”

“He had a mother, but she has rejoined his father. I promised to take their mantles.”

Oh. Jango was suddenly more in awe, his wariness blooming into respect when Ben admitted to being their mysterious supplier, and now tentative admiration now that he knew Ben had taken on a child not originally his own. And even under threat from those who wished to exterminate their culture, Ben had still chosen to bring his child into their sacred traditions. This newcomer could be trusted, the purity of his actions and the capability of it all called to Jango.

Wren tilted her head to the side. “We could possibly join clans, if that is something you would like.”

“You can’t do that!” Kast exclaimed, echoing Jango’s sentiments for reasons that did not align. 

Wren had been trying to indoctrinate herself into Clan Vizsla, previously making a now un-kept promise to place her bloodline under the leadership of Pre. But if she, Ben, and Ben’s small child joined under one name, they’d have the freedom to decide under whom they wanted to serve and to what extent they wished to give. It could be seen as a sign of courting, but no sentiments of that sort had been vocalized and if Jango could have anything to do with it, they wouldn’t.

Wren whipped around, placing herself directly in front of Ben, blocking him from view. “Haven’t we got a schedule to complete? I have the second and last load, there is no reason for us to linger in these mines any longer.”

Jango sighed. Wren was right, but once focus returned to their pre-flight checks and security protocols, he would never hear the rest of the conversation. Jango cleared his throat and amplified his voice, addressing all of them present. “She’s right. Half an hour until take off, get back to your duties and try not to fall behind.”

His order was met with muffled grumbles shortly replaced by the straightening of backs and the return of the hum of movement. Jango strode forward, Pre trailing after and his third in command, Myles, following close behind them both. Kast ducked out of the way, bowing her head as Jango closed the just over a dozen metre distance between his prepared ship and the one carrying the newest supplies. Two others moved out of their way, scampering across as they bared the weight of a large box newly unloaded between them. They’d be back to finish unloading and distributing, but Jango had no concerns about it.

Kast edged closer to Wren who scowled at her in return. The two of them snapped to attention though, temporarily disregarding their feud as Jango arrived.

“ ,” Wren said stiffly, giving Jango at shallow bow. “The mission went as planned and all that could be recovered was.”

Jango tilted his head towards Ben who had moved his cloak to drape off of one shoulder, letting his child grasp chubby hands at his gloved fingers. His helmet tilted up slightly as he took the sight of the three newcomers in.

“I see there were additions.”

Wren shrugged. “He killed my informant.” From behind him, Jango heard Myles choke. “It was quite a shock.”

Jango’s gaze met Ben’s t-visor. “Why?”

Ben said nothing for a beat, listening to his child gurgle with laughter at the little game they had going. “They tried to plant a tracking device on me.” He hesitated for a moment. “The trust was broken and I discovered their true alliances.”

Jango could respect that. “You’ll be coming with us to Concordia, it’s a short journey but a dangerous one.”

Ben nodded. “Thank you,  .” The title didn’t sound right in his mouth, tacked onto the end of his gratitude with an unpracticed edge. Ben wasn’t a Mandalorian, by all accounts he seemed like one of them, fitting the bill and filling the role, but still, Jango could feel his hesitancy. Ben was no threat, he was likely a valuable ally, but Jango would keep an eye on him. That would appease his curiosities and worries, as well as the tightening in his gut at the sight of the man who didn’t know wholly what he was doing, but was doing it extremely well.

**Author's Note:**

> -The logistics of this?? Uhh small ships I guess or possibly big mines. The Wrens deserve everything and so does Ursa.  
> -All the character mentioned so far are real, canonical characters because I feel bad for making OCs even though they were honestly necessary  
> -I was under the impression that Star Wars had its own special measurement system, but no, apparently its just metres and Darth Vader acted as George Lucas' original measuring system so...  
> -I stopped revising this about half way through the last round so if it don't make sense, please tell me


End file.
